


Meet Your Maker

by ScottieIsImpatient



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: Humor, Self Insert, crackfic, self insert crack, there is nothing serious about this fic at all
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-07
Updated: 2020-11-07
Packaged: 2021-03-09 06:08:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27440071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScottieIsImpatient/pseuds/ScottieIsImpatient
Summary: “This is all your fault.”“My fault? Why is it my fault?”“You’re the one who said the bloody coordinates were correct.”“They were correct!”“Then why are we standing here in this room and not on Kla…”The argument faded into silence as both men realized they were being watched.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 10





	Meet Your Maker

**Author's Note:**

> I got bored one night and wrote this. Please enjoy this mess of crack.

“This is all your fault.”

“ _My_ fault? Why is it _my_ fault?”

“You’re the one who said the bloody coordinates were correct.”

“They were correct!”

“Then why are we standing here in this room and not on Kla…”

The argument faded into silence as both men realized they were being watched. A young man, more accurately described as a boy, with messy blond hair sat at a desk, his body twisted to face the owners of the voices behind him.

Malcolm felt uneasiness wash over him. Suddenly those wide blue eyes were menacing, full of ill-intent, and he had to defeat the beast before it defeated him. He reached for his phase pistol.

At the same time, Commander Tucker was feeling an indescribable attachment to the Lieutenant unlike anything he’d ever experienced before. His arms shot out and embraced the smaller man tightly. “Who’re you and what d’you want?” he demanded to the blond boy over Malcolm’s protests.

The boy only stared back. He hadn’t moved – in fact, he didn’t even seem to be breathing. Trip frowned. “Hey! Can you understand me?”

“Yes,” was the quiet reply.

Malcolm flinched and ceased his struggling, burying his face in Trip’s chest. He could not handle it. The beast’s voice was grating on his ears. Any moment now it would pounce and tear him to shreds. He tried to focus on the hand gently stroking his hair and the reassuring whispers-

Wait a minute.

Malcolm ripped himself from Trip’s arms at the same time Trip pushed Malcolm away. They stared at each other for a beat before bellowing in perfect unison, “what the hell?”

Something odd was happening. Something _very_ odd.

And it all had to do with that boy.

“Who are you?” Trip demanded again. Blue eyes flickered briefly to him, but then they focused back on Malcolm again. Always at Malcolm. A shiver went up the spine of the man in question. Something about that gaze… it held unspeakable horrors. And yet it belonged to nothing more than a college student. A student, who instead of making the effort to catch up on his classes, was sitting around writing an absolutely ridiculous crackfic.

“What are you?” Trip tried again. “Ya look human. Are ya human?”

“Yes,” the voice replied. Then he asked a question of his own: “are you real?”

Trip patted himself down comically. “I think so. What about you?”

The boy shrugged. He seemed suddenly okay with the situation. He rose slowly from his desk chair. “You wouldn’t by any chance be Lieutenant Reed and Commander Tucker of the Enterprise, would you?”

Trip and Malcolm stared in shock. This kid knew them?

“Are we on Earth?” Malcolm asked.

The boy nodded.

So, that settled it. Somehow, they’d been transported back to Earth – in the bedroom of some random student, apparently. But something was off. It took a moment for Trip to realize.

“This ain’t 2152.”

Hesitantly, the boy shook his head. “No. It’s 2020.”

The Commander and Lieutenant gave a loud, unified gasp. “The year of hell?” Malcolm asked, voice quivering. Something about the statement amused the boy; the corner of his mouth went up into a smirk.

“If… that’s what 2020 is, then yeah.”

Moving on, Malcolm sneaked a glance over the boy’s shoulder. “What are you writing?” He asked nonchalantly.

Then the boy was nervous again. The frown reappeared, anxiety dancing in his eyes, which moved downcast. “Uh, nothin’.”

“Those look like words ta me,” Trip commented, also looking at the open computer screen.

Suddenly an overwhelming amount of images washed over Malcolm, each one more horrible than the last. Himself being dragged across the saucer section of Enterprise, unconscious and sweating buckets; he and Trip talking in Malcolm’s quarters; an explosion on an alien planet; losing the use of his arm; kissing Trip-

Kissing Trip? Just what the bloody hell…?

The images continued. Malcolm saw himself speaking Russian, of all things; Trip falling off a cliff; himself breaking down in Madeline’s arms in what looked like years into the future; being kidnapped by an alien species, Trip coming to his rescue, a strange link-

The images stopped abruptly. Malcolm righted himself from where he’d doubled over, glancing between Trip and the boy. “Just what the hell was that?” he gasped out.

Trip looked to him and frowned. “You alright, Malcolm?”

Malcolm was already drawing his phase pistol. Without warning, he suddenly shot the blond boy in the chest-

Bright green trees were the first thing he laid eyes on when the landscape started to shimmer into view. Next were the colourful streamers and banners which were hung from the cottage-like buildings in celebration of the new Klataran year. The best part was that they’d made it there in one peace. Malcolm grinned and turned to Trip. “Told you the transporter wasn’t that bad.”


End file.
